The Fine Art of Self Pleasure
by blackraven23
Summary: DracoGinny On a particularly horrid Thursday afternoon, Ginny Weasley skips Charms to sulk in a fourth-floor bathroom, and overhears a conversation about something she thought never would be spoken of in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts-- masturbation. DMGW
1. Chapter 1

**The Fine Art of Self-Pleasure**

a story about

among other, more important things,

Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley

* * *

_We know that more than seventy to eighty percent of women masturbate, and ninety percent of men masturbate, and the rest lie._

* * *

The bathroom door slammed as footsteps echoed across the flagstone floor, accompanied with the slight giggles of adolescent girls. Ginny's shoulders tensed at the unexpected intrusion, arms wrapping more tightly around her knees as she perched atop a toilet seat cover. She had ditched her Thursday afternoon Charms class and come up to one of the least used girls toilets (the one on the fourth floor, second corridor, hidden around the corner from some unused classrooms), to escape the concerns of her friends over her ever-darkening mood. So she was not entirely thrilled that people were so callously infringing upon the delicate calm that had descended upon her in the 20 minutes or so she had spent sulking up here.

She was having a bad enough day as it was, without this. First, something had gone wrong with her hair-fixing charm that morning and so, instead of her hair falling in graceful waves from her head, it seemed intent on exploding outwards in a bright orange curling afro disaster as though she had escaped from one of her father's photos from the 1970s. Hermione had barely been able to fix it back, and even though it wasn't as bad as it had been, her hair was still a bit bigger than usual, and she couldn't get "American Pie" out of her head. She barely caught the end of breakfast, so by the time she got there, all of the good food was gone and she was forced to subsist for the next five hours on half a scrap of toast and a gulp of orange juice.

If that wasn't bad enough, in Transfiguration class, as she had been attempting to turn a mini statuette into a songbird, Colin Creevey had knocked into her at the last second, and so her pretty nightingale had been born with marble wings and tail, a fact which caused her to receive a failure (her first!) from McGonagall, and a stern talking to about "not laying the blame for our own failures on others," when she tried, unsuccessfully, to explain what had happened. Not only had McGonagall refused to listen, but Creevey had even denied that he'd done it! Spineless sod.

And that wasn't even all. Oh, no. That wasn't enough horridness for one morning, apparently. Something else just had to make it worse. So, of course, _Malfoy_ had to come into the picture. Bastard! His very presence should be wiped from the Earth, and cleaned up with a anti-bacterial disinfectant pad! She had been muttering loudly to herself about the Creevey Incident as she descended the stairs from the Transfiguration room, ignoring the concerned questions of her friends, when a drawling voice from behind had cut through her annoyance.

"Careful there, Weaslette. Much more talk like that and you'll land yourself a padded room at Bedlam." She had turned her head slightly around to see Draco Malfoy casually walking down the steps next to her, his usual two goonies following close behind.

"Shove it, Malfoy," she had snapped, stomping down the stairs with increased fury.

"Oh, wait," he had called after her, not even attempting to keep up. His voice had echoed widely across the stone staircases, making people going to lunch look over at him, "I forgot. Bedlam's only for families who can _afford_ it. Guess your parents will just have to chain you up in the basement or something, to keep you from attacking the rest of your clan. How many siblings have you got, little Weasley, ten? Fourteen?"

Ginny had barely been able to get through lunch, she wanted to storm over to the Slytherin table and punch that sneer off Malfoy's face so badly she almost couldn't eat. The only thing that kept her at the table was the cool stare of Snape and McGonagall up at the Head Table, and the fact that she'd hardly had any breakfast, so her stomach felt like it was practically eating itself all through Transfiguration. After wolfing down her lunch, Ginny had disappeared to the toilets, hoping for some alone time so she could calm down her nerves, before apologizing to her friends for being so ghastly. But those _girls_ just had to go and intrude.

As if they knew she was thinking about them, the girls laughed again from where Ginny thought that the sinks might be, whispering amongst each other, too quiet for her to pick up any words, and she could feel irritation begin to work its way up her neck, making her shift on the toilet seat. She glared pointedly at the wooden door to her stall with a ferocity that could have lit it on fire. Couldn't these people just leave already? Shouldn't they, like her, be in class? What were they doing here anywhere? They certainly weren't going to the bathroom-- thank god, the last thing she needed was to overhear someone else's bodily functions with her mood as it was-- and all it seemed that they were doing was talking.

Bloody annoying bints, she scowled. Ginny was just about to get up and leave, to find a different place to hide and try to lift her mood (perhaps some place that didn't smell, just slightly, of sewer) when the girls spoke loud enough for her to hear.

"-- I don't understand why guys make such a fuss about it."

"Well, perhaps that's just because you haven't _tried_ it."

There was louder laughter, a bit more free than before, and Ginny raised her feet back up onto the ledge of the toilet, suddenly aware that she couldn't leave. She couldn't just get up and go waltzing through the group of girls at the door to leave, not without them thinking that she was somehow listening in on their conversation intentionally. _That_ would certainly get around, and though she was no eavesdropper (at least not at Hogwarts, and usually not on purpose), she didn't want to make more trouble for herself. Girls could be _vicious_.

Plus, she was sort of curious as to what they were talking about when they should have been in class. What was so secret they couldn't do this some other time? But it was as though they knew that she was thinking of them again, or their conversation suddenly turned more private, because they started speaking in lower voices that Ginny couldn't hear properly. Bloody useless, Ginny thought, she couldn't even eavesdrop properly.

But then an idea lit up her mind and she scrambled silently for her bag. Digging through the books and papers (my God, when had she written so many notes to Lillian, Victoria and Luna, her best friends?), she wondered if it was still there. She hadn't cleaned out her bag this summer, had she? But when her fingers closed in on the slimy thing, she silently thanked her parents for not being rich enough to buy her a new bag, and her brothers for being such geniuses. Because in her hand was an old, slightly stretched out, Extendable Ear. The perfect eavesdropping tool.

If she was going to be stuck in this bathroom for ages, she might as well find out why.

Slipping the end of the Ear inside of her own, she watched as the flesh-colored string stretched out to the floor and slid along the flagstones silently, winding its way out of sight, the slight murmuring noises becoming more pronounced the closer it got to the group of girls.

"-- I can't believe you've actually _done_ it, Sienna," one girl whispered, and Ginny struggled to recognize her voice. It sounded extremely familiar, but she couldn't place it.

But she didn't have to think to recognize the girl who spoke next. Sienna Vecsey was a 6th year like Ginny, but in the Ravenclaw house, and known all across school for her beauty as well as her mean _Confringo_ hex. Ginny was suddenly glad she hadn't decided to reveal her presence. She was good in a fight, but not stupid enough to ignite the Vecsey wrath.

"Well, why the hell shouldn't I?" Sienna asked, mock-seriously. "If boys can do it, then certainly so can I."

The girls laughed again, and Ginny thought there were maybe four of them in the group. Who was friends with Sienna Vecsey? There was that tall, dark girl, Ginny thought, the one that liked Harry for a while, and poisoned Ron with a love potion. What was her name again? Vanity something?

"And really, Rommie, like you should act all shocked. From what's been going around, you're the one who's been _doing_ things."

The girls gasped, and Ginny suddenly remembered who it was. Romilda Vane, the seventh year Gryffindor!

Romilda seemed to take offense at that. "Sienna! You know that's not true!"

"Yeah, you know that she's saving herself for The One--," a voice that Ginny recognized as being Gemma Fleetfoot's-- a 7th year Ravenclaw--, remarked cheekily.

"More like, The Chosen One!" Margeaux Stavros, a sixth year Hufflepuff, remarked, and the girls dissolved into fits of laughter. Really, couldn't these girls stop laughing? And what exactly were they talking about? Doing what? And were they talking about Harry?

Suddenly, Ginny was much more interested. Not because of Harry, of course, as she had completely given up on him the year before, and, unlike what Hermione had said, he had _not_ noticed and come running back to her. Really. She was quite over him, thank you. Although it was obvious from the girls' talk that Romilda was a little less fortunate with her overwhelming crush on Boy Wonder. But what did that have to do with anything?

"But, Sienna, tell them what you told me! That's much more interesting, really," Romilda said, and the girls whispered amongst themselves, nothing that even the Extendable Ear could pick up.

"What did you tell her that was so shocking, Sienna?" Margeaux questioned, seeming like she only half-expected a real answer. "Was it about that Thomas boy?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. Dean Thomas had snogged Sienna Vecsey, and he hadn't told anyone?

"No, no, no. It wasn't Thomas," Romilda cut in. "Sienna wouldn't even let him near her, let alone allow him to touch her. Tell them, Sienna!"

Sienna heaved a dramatic breath. "Alright, I'll tell you. But what I say must be kept within the strictest confidence, and never should a breath of it be repeated outside of these walls, do you understand me?"

"Yes," Romilda answered, immediately.

"Of course," Margeaux said.

"Er, yeah, I suppose," Gemma spoke, ostensibly rather unconvinced.

"Alright, well, you see... recently, I-- well, a couple of weeks ago, actually--I, er, did this thing."

"What kind of thing?" Margeaux questioned, voice just the tiniest bit worried.

There was a long pause, and Ginny could feel her heart beat faster. Was it bad? Was Sienna dabbling in Dark Magic? Secretly become a Death Eater? Ginny scowled to herself. But why would Voldemort choose _her_? Didn't the man have _any_ taste? (Well, then again, she thought, he _had _chosen that looney bint Bellatrix, as well as the disgusting Wormtail creature, and the spineless Lucius Malfoy, and no doubt that slimy git Snape, as his followers, so its not as though he could be said to have the best pick of the lot, at least as far as cleanliness was concerned. But, really? Sienna Vecsey?)

But then Sienna spoke and Ginny forgot what she was worried about.

"I masturbated."

The girls all shrieked, making Ginny jerk suddenly, and the Extendable Ear nearly came flying back towards her. She very nearly fell off the toilet seat for that one. Scrambling back up onto her perch, she was glad that the girls were making too much noise for them to hear her. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her breath came hard. Really! She thought it was something bad, and instead it turned out to be-- turned out to be... well, something like _that_!

"But you actually masturbated, Sienna?" Margeaux demanded, laugh evident under her voice. "Why didn't you ever tell me? This is... this is..."

"Unexpected," Gemma finished.

"Well," Sienna said, sounding slightly put out that the girls had reacted the way that they had. "Its not something you just announce suddenly one day over the breakfast table! What, how would you have reacted if I just came up and sat next to you while you were drinking your Pumpkin Juice and gossiping about Justin Finch-Fletchley, turned to you and randomly said, 'Cheerio, there, Margeaux, you know what I did last night? I thought of Jude Law naked and masturbated while thinking about him!' You would have choked on your bloody tongue!"

"But, I can't believe you waited until now to tell us!" Romilda said.

Sienna sniffed slightly. "It's not as though you asked. Are you telling me that you've never tried it, Rommie?"

The other girls laughed, and Romilda took a moment to answer. "Well, yes." At their suddenly increased amusement, she burst out over them. "But never _successfully_!"

Gemma spoke through barely contained giggles. "By successfully, I assume you mean, by achieving orgasm?"

Ginny could feel herself growing increasingly uncomfortable by this particular discussion. It wasn't as though she hadn't ever heard of masturbation-- she had grown up in a house with six brothers, so wanking had come up more often than she probably had ever really been comfortable with, and, plus, she was a teenager, going through puberty, much as those brothers wanted to deny it, so her friends had often joked about it-- but she had never heard a _girl_ ever confess that she had done it. Much less two. She hardly knew that women did that sort of thing.

Did they?

"... why, yes," Romilda replied, somewhat stiffly. "Thank you, Gemma, for that... clarification."

"But why ever not?" Gemma questioned.

Margeaux broke in, saying, "I know! You have that perfectly scrumptious Potter boy to think of. I've seen him in his Quidditch kit, and I can't for a second think of why it wouldn't work if you were thinking of him."

"Oh, yes. I remember him last year at the Quidditch final," Sienna added. "Drop dead gorgeous in red and gold. Half the girls I was with couldn't stop staring at him. And they're in Ravenclaw! How couldn't it have worked?"

Alright, Ginny thought to herself, feeling cold pass over her skin as though she just accidentally walked through a ghost. This was okay, she was fine. She was over Harry, she actually was, but it still supremely unnerved her that other girls thought of him that way, even now. Of course, she had always known that other girls found him attractive, even sexy, and it had really bothered her once upon a time, but now it just... made her cringe a bit. Did Harry know that girls thought of him like this? Is this how guys thought about girls?

"I don't know," Romilda admitted. "It's not that I don't like him like that, or that I'm not attracted to him... but... I just don't know."

"Did you try thinking about him naked?" Sienna asked, and Ginny's grip tightened so hard on the Ear that it nearly squished to nothingness beneath her fingers. She sorely, sorely wished on all the stars in the sky, and all the Galleons that were no doubt secured in the Malfoys' Gringotts vault, that she were in Charms right then and not perched uncomfortably on top of a toilet seat eavesdropping on girls that were discussing her ex-crush's naked sexiness.

So, she was eternally grateful when Romilda shrieked, causing her to jump slightly in response. "Sienna, no! How could you ask that?! It makes me uncomfortable to think of him... like that... without being his girlfriend!"

Sienna just laughed. "Aw, come on. You never tried? I'm _dying_ to know."

Margeaux broke in just in time to save Romilda from answering. "Really, Sienna. I'm more interested in _your_ experience. Tell us, what did it feel like to orgasm?"

Sienna didn't answer right away and at first Ginny thought that she had perhaps damaged the Ear by squeezing it too tightly again, when Gemma broke the silence that had descended.

"Oh, look, Romilda! Our shy little Sienna is turning pink! But, really. It's not as though you weren't going to tell us that you had and not share all the details, you know."

"And?" Sienna responded somewhat defensively. "You didn't have to just _ask_ like that!"

"Come on, Sienna, spill!" Margeaux encouraged.

Obviously eager to keep the attention away from herself, Romilda joined in. "Please, Sienna, tell us!"

"I'm interested," Gemma added.

Emboldened by her friend's encouragement, Sienna took an audible breath and said, "Well, when I first tried it, I couldn't get myself anywhere. I just kept... rubbing, hoping something would happen. But nothing did. You know what I mean? I couldn't feel anything for a while, and then it just started to hurt down there. I thought that I was doing everything right, but nothing was working. There was none of that white-hot pleasure or anything. So, I thought something was wrong with me, and I didn't do it for a while after that. I was sort of humiliated by it, actually.

"But, then, one day, about two or three weeks ago, I got really excited for some reason. I didn't know why at the time." Sienna paused for a moment, then continued. "Well, perhaps, now that I think about it, it may have something to do with seeing Blaise Zabini's sweaty, sexy half-naked form after Slytherin Quidditch practice"-- the other girls giggled at that-- "but I didn't think of that at the time. Anyway, after I went to bed, I couldn't sleep at all. I think I was really turned on or something, and I kept thinking about trying again, but after the first few tries I didn't want to fail _again_ and just end up frustrated.

"But I couldn't keep ignoring it, so I tried. And it was _different_, somehow, this time, and I was very, er..." Sienna trailed off uncertainly.

"Wet?" Gemma supplied helpfully.

"Right," Sienna affirmed. "That. And it felt a lot better than before. I don't know precisely why. I got very warm down there, and my heart was beating a lot harder than it ever had before. I'm not sure, it's like my body was telling me what to do," Sienna's voice lowered conspiratorially, and Ginny had to concentrate hard to catch all of the words. She knew she shouldn't listen, but she just couldn't make herself stop. She had _never_ heard anything like this before.

"And I just did what felt right, and there was this feeling that was building up, and I suddenly got very tight, and I could, you know, _feel _it. My... you know, was moving and I couldn't control it, and it felt really, really _good_. And it was like my whole body tensed up at it, this really excellent feeling that just filled me up and down."

The other girls tittered quietly with appreciative laughter, and even Ginny could feel an uncomfortable laugh tickle the back of her throat, but after that it was as though they were all silenced momentarily by the enormity of Sienna's confession. A girl... someone her age, Ginny thought, had done something like... masturbating, and had actually made herself orgasm. It was almost as though Ginny could hardly believe it, but even as she thought that, she knew it was true. She had really thought that only boys wanked, but now that she really considered it, perhaps that was a biased view. Why would only guys be able to give themselves such pleasure, and for it to be deemed acceptable?

Of course, she couldn't think of herself ever... doing that. Her cheeks flamed red at the mere thought. How embarrassing!

"So," Margeaux broke in mischievously after a while, "what _exactly_ did you think of?"

* * *

Ginny pressed her ear up against the wooden door to the stall, trying to make sure that they were really gone. Once she was fairly sure, she squeezed the door open, pressing her face in the space to peer down the flagstones to the sink area. Soft light fell in through the high-set, narrow windows from above, reflecting lightly from the mirrors set into the wall, into the bright white porcelain sinks and across the floor, but there was no one left there. Reaching over to her bag, she swung the stall door open and stepped awkwardly out, her muscles stiff from sitting so long in an unnatural position.

Her Charms class was long over by then, as was Defense Against the Dark Arts, and dinner was due to start in just a couple of minutes, but she felt that she had learned more in those four hours than she had in her entire career at Hogwarts. Her bad mood had long since departed, to be replaced by one made equal parts of intermittent wonder and embarrassment. As she plodded heavily down the stairs, knees almost unable to take her weight, she pondered whether or not she could reveal to her friends what she had heard.

The desire burned at her to find out more about what they had been talking about, even as embarrassment made it hard for her to concentrate on the actual topic. Ginny tried to put the thoughts from her mind as she entered the Great Hall, the loud chatter of the other Hogwarts students and the clatter of silverware against plates creating a buzz that was easy to lose herself in.

Locating her friends near the middle of the Gryffindor table, Ginny dropped in next to Lillian, who was discussing quite heatedly with Victoria over the table about the various merits of a Ravenclaw prefect, hardly noticing her best friend's arrival. Luna, however, who was sitting next to Victoria, looked up from a thick tome she was inspecting, and smiled.

"Hello, Ginny. Are you feeling quite alright?" Luna tilted her head to the side and peered at Ginny with her unusual silver-grey eyes. "I noticed you were missing from Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and I wondered if it had to do with Draco Malfoy. He was particularly interested in you today."

For some reason, the way that Luna phrased the statement made Ginny blush slightly, a fact that she couldn't hide with her fair skin, even though she knew that wasn't the way Luna meant it.

Fortunately, she was saved the trouble of replying by Lillian's sudden realization of her arrival.

"Ginny!" Lillian threw her arms around Ginny quite suddenly, making the spoon Ginny was lifting towards her mouth slip from her fingers and back into the bowl from which she was trying to eat, splattering pumpkin soup across the table. Burying her face into Ginny's neck, Lillian cried, "tell her, Ginny. Tell Victoria that Marcus Helixus is _not_ an insufferable prat with a superiority complex larger than Jupiter!"

Ginny looked from Lillian's fair head buried in her neck and over at Victoria's cool blue stare, and raised an eyebrow.

"I honestly don't know," was all she could say, which made Lillian's grip tighten around her neck a bit more, and an amused quirk of the lips to appear on Victoria's face. "I've never met him-- I don't even know if I've seen him before."

At this, Lillian sat up and looked Ginny in the face quizzically. "But, Ginny, he's in our Herbology class. Has been since the beginning of the year. _And, _he helped me transfer those Tarantacula sprouts last week." At this last statement, she fixed a glare at Victoria, as though trying to prove that he wasn't as bad as she was trying to make everyone believe. After a moment, she turned back to look at Ginny. "Are you _sure_ you don't know who I'm talking about?"

Ginny shook her head 'no'.

"How could you not know who he is?" Lillian raised her eyebrows, a suffering expression crossing her face. "Do you pay attention to boys at all?"

Ginny just shrugged, but the question bothered her. She had decided, after the disaster that was her obsession with Harry Potter and her subsequent rebound with Dean Thomas, to remove herself from the world of crushes and boys, at least for a while, to try and find out more about herself before putting herself out there again. All that she had discovered so far, however, was that she seemed inadequate in _every_ way compared to her friends and the other girls at her school.

As Lillian turned to ask Luna if she knew who she was talking about, Ginny silently tried to phrase the question that she was dying to ask. Did her friends know about masturbation? Did they ever... try? If they were debating boys' attractiveness or their bodies, did that mean they had thought about having sex with them? The thought made warmth flare across Ginny's cheeks, and she looked at her friends with new eyes.

Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't do it. She couldn't ask. Something was stopping her, and she knew instantly what it was. What if they _had_ tried it, and hadn't told her? What if they were so much more aware of themselves than she was, _that _much more in touch with their own sexuality? Ginny snapped her mouth shut. She felt inadequate enough as it was, without even more proof to the positive.

She would do some research, and then she would ask, so when they told her the inevitable truth, she wouldn't feel quite so daft. There was a Hogsmeade trip in two weeks, and she could probably slip away for long enough to find a book on the subject at one of the bookstores.

That decided, she focused her attention back on the conversation at hand, and was surprised when it abruptly turned to her.

Victoria smiled at her, "Are you okay, Ginny? You've been sitting there with a strange expression on your face for a while now. And you were gone from afternoon classes."

"Is it Malfoy's fault?" Lillian questioned. "That bloody bastard was horrible earlier. I can't believe what he said to you!"

Ginny just smiled at her friends' defense.

* * *

When Ginny went to bed that night, she lay awake for a long time, just thinking. As the chatter of her friends outside of the closed curtains of her four-poster bed faded slowly away into the night, she stared in an unfocussed manner at the canopy, the darkness making shapes appear across the red fabric that she didn't even try to name. An irritation thrummed at her skin, her every sense alive and unsatisfied with her current situation. Her hair, only half-dried and a mess of waves, pricked at her sensitive neck and the edges of her face. But she wouldn't move to touch it, nor the itch that was growing along the inside of her ankle, nor to move the blankets further up her chest to cover her skin that was growing cold in the November night air without the protection of her pajamas.

Her hands lay folded across her stomach, but on top of the blankets, fingers wrapped around the opposite arms' width, but not clenched, though irritation grew within her steadily. Bloody hell, she thought to herself, she couldn't get the thought out of her head to try it, tonight, without waiting! Her back muscles, already stiff with annoyance, tightened, and she suddenly let out a loud, rather gruff breath of air from her nose and mouth.

She wasn't going to do it. No, she wasn't.

But Ginny was, to her chagrin, very curious. And not blessed with an infinite amount of patience-- especially with herself. As her hands tightened around her wrists, she let out another puff of air and turned to her side suddenly, attempting to bury her thoughts and her face into her pillow. Letting out a tiny scream of frustration, she repeated to herself again, she wouldn't do it.

But, even as she thought that, her hands slipped from each other and then under the covers, one drawing the heavy blanket up to more fully cover her shoulders, and the other slipping down the front of her flannel pajamas. Her fingers were cold against her skin as she pulled up the hem of her pajama top, and she jumped involuntarily when they hit the sensitive skin of her lower stomach. Clenching her eyes shut, she pressed her hand more fully against the warmth of her skin, until the heat seeped into the frozen fingers, and her stomach didn't react so violently to their touch.

And then, without further ado, she plunged her hand past the elastic waistband of her pajamas and into her panties. The curly hair down there was much different from the kind on top of her head-- it was more wiry, and much less thick, and to touch it only reminded Ginny of the situation she was dealing with, and where she was touching. For some reason, it embarrassed her to even touch her own body, and her fingers fled from the area as quickly as they could, even as her body turned more in on itself in its bashfulness. Her fingers found purchase in the sudden division of flesh, and she shivered slightly as her still-slightly-cold fingers pressed against soft folds of skin infused with heat.

But she didn't know, really, what to do then. Her heart beat strongly in her ears, and she was suddenly aware of a whole new area of her body. Ginny paused, fingers staying in place, lightly pressing down on the damp skin, mind spinning rapidly. She remembered the girls talking about fantasies-- about imagining something that would 'turn them on'. What did she think did that? Hurriedly, she flicked through her memories for something pleasurable and fun (she almost likened it to the formation of a Patronus, only more sexual).

She had liked it when she snogged Dean Thomas last year, in the throes of her post-Harry Potter obsession, and she recalled the steamier bits of the rather heated sessions they had engaged in. The soft feel of Dean's lips, the warmth of his breath in her mouth, his fingers clasping the back of her neck, the softness of his sweater under her palms, and the heat of his skin underneath. Ginny imagined kissing someone, softly at first, their face obscured in the darkness of her fantasy, their skin against her own, cheeks growing hot and bodies pressing against each other. Fragments of her actual experience infused the imaginings with an almost-reality, and her lips moved unconsciously in response, frustrated at the purchase they were unable to gain in free air.

Ginny imagined someone slipping their hands under her shirt, feeling around the waistband of her pants, hands pressing strongly against her midriff, and her own arms going around their neck, loosening their tie and fumbling blindly with buttons to reach the hot skin of their shoulders, lips still pressed against each other, but tongues come into play. Slowly, she slid her fingers up and down, dragging the folds of skin against each other, and was surprised as an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation responded, knocking her almost out of her fantasy. Thus encouraged, she continued the action for a while, eyes pressed tightly closed, chin to her chest and breath hot against the skin under the suffocating covers, the fantasy still running in her mind.

She tried to imagine a boy reaching down, past the elastic of her waistband and into her panties, something that had never actually happened before, and was excited when it elicited a slight jump in pleasure. But nothing else seemed to happen for a while, even when she thought about the boy doing exactly what she was doing, except for the area to begin to hurt slightly from chafing.

Frustrated, Ginny pushed her fingers further back, past the soft yet surprisingly resistant folds of skin and towards the closed, rather small hole of her vagina. There, she felt blindly around the unknown area, before she pressed one finger slowly inside, her leg automatically lifting so her hand could fit more comfortably against her pelvis. Strange, folded and soft ridges of skin almost like slick pillows pressed against her finger as she pushed it deeper inside, the fantasy almost completely lost because she could hardly imagine a guy doing it to her, but the action produced no reaction beyond slight discomfort. She tried moving her finger around, but that only increased the discomfort, and she stopped.

Perhaps, she thought, she should think about a penis. Ginny almost laughed, embarrassed even to be thinking it, and the only images she could conjure up were the anatomical drawings she had seen once in a book from the library, which were very formal, black-and-white, and not attached to a human in any way, shape, or form. (She had seen her fair share of penises in her lifetime, due to her six brothers, but not since they were fairly young, and she abhorred the thought of her brothers in her current position.) But she did it anyway, trying to imagine the bloke who had been kissing her, entering her, and she moved her finger in response.

Nothing but that slight pain.

Annoyed, Ginny pulled her hand out and back to the folds of skin outside, and tried rubbing them again, but nothing beyond the amorphous pleasure she had felt before occurred, even when she thought of snogging, even a bloke's grabby hands over her breasts.

Finally, she just gave up, pulling her hand completely away and burying it beneath the pillow under her head. Her body thrummed rather uncomfortably with equal parts unsatisfied desire and exasperation with her own failure, and as she rolled onto her stomach, she pressed the thoughts of what she had just attempted out of her head, and fell asleep.

* * *

The thoughts of her nighttime failure put her in a sullen mood for the rest of the week, though she wouldn't explain to anyone what had caused it, and nothing her friends did could seem to alleviate the sudden shift in demeanor. Her brother, normally forever badgering her about one thing or another and almost completely incapable of reading other people's emotions, picked up on her latent annoyance, and steered clear. Even Malfoy, who had, in years before, completely ignored her existence, but had become that year an infrequent but capable tormenter, was oddly absent that week.

Although that could have been because she had accidentally-on-purpose hexed his goblet of pumpkin juice to spill all over his nice, new white uniform shirt the morning after her failed attempt at self-pleasure. And then at every meal time for the rest of the week. (In her defense, the fact that Malfoy seemed to be more clumsy than usual was none of her concern, even if she did happen to be gripping her wand in her pocket at the time.)

She wasn't even really sure why she was acting so angry-- she knew she shouldn't have expected a perfect orgasm, or even something resembling that increased pleasure the first time she tried it, but it still bothered her that she was incapable as such a simple thing as self-pleasure. Really, it should be simple, Ginny thought, to make herself happy, to turn herself on. Certainly, she'd have no problem with it if she still liked Harry, wasn't that right? She could just imagine him doing everything she'd had that faceless partner do, and the orgasm would trot along, just like that.

Momentarily, she even considered the possibility of liking Harry again, just so she could know what an orgasm felt like. She even tried imagining him naked, offering her himself, but the image wouldn't come to her, and the fact that she thought it just made her blush and scowl ferociously. Merlin! She couldn't believe she was doing this to herself! She didn't like him anymore. No, she didn't.

As if to prove it to herself, she turned and looked down the table where the Boy Who Lived himself was sitting with her brother and Hermione, laughing quietly and not even noticing the people around him. Yes, she thought. It would be so simple if she still liked him-- he was so distanced from the rest of the world, from everyone else, that it was easy to admire him, to see him as the perfect man from afar. And even though she knew he wasn't, that just made him all the more appealing, increased the drive to become the one woman who knew what lay beneath that faultless exterior, to know what encouraged that fierce Gryffindor loyalty and to be the reason for his enduring strength.

But even as she looked at him longingly, she knew she didn't want that anymore. She didn't want to be in love with someone who was so completely oblivious to the world, someone who was so consumed with his so-called "destiny" he would abandon all else just to accomplish it, even if it destroyed him.

Ginny turned back to her ham and eggs and picked at them moodily, glaring at the remnants that were left.

Lillian and Victoria, sitting across from Ginny, looked over to where Ginny had been staring sullenly before, and then at each other, stricken expressions matching. Lillian mouthed a question silently to Victoria, who shrugged and looked confused, before indicating to Ginny.

'Should we ask her?' Lillian asked again, silently.

Victoria glared at her. 'Don't make her mad,' she mouthed. Drawing a slashing motion across her neck, she said 'She'll kill you if you bring up Potter.'

'But she's obviously sad!' Lillian responded quietly, throwing out a hand at Ginny pityingly.

'She doesn't still love him, does she?' Victoria questioned silently.

Lillian shrugged explosively, eyes wide.

"Do you suppose they're speaking in Marbletongue, Ginny?" Luna questioned dreamily from beside Ginny, and all three girls jumped at the sudden appearance of the fourth girl, but she just continued on in her light voice as though she hadn't noticed. "I suppose it's a very useful talent to possess, as you can talk to ancient sculptures and such, and what wonderful stories they must have, but it's terribly difficult to master. I've studied it for years, and all I can say is 'rabbit,' which is not useful at all. How did you two become so proficient at it?"

Ginny, Lillian, and Victoria just stared at her for one long moment. No matter how many years passed, no matter how many Crumple-horned Snorkacks or wrackspurts, sometimes they just couldn't get used to Luna's non-normality.

Victoria seemed to regain her speech first. "Loads of practice," she managed to fudge, and Lillian creaked out a, 'Yeah.'

Ginny, however, was confused. "What are you lot talking about? Marbletongue? Who has a marble tongue?"

Lillian and Victoria made furious slashing gestures at her, but Luna just turned to Ginny and spoke in her lilting, high voice. "They were talking silently to each other in the ancient language of Marbletongue. I think they were talking about you, but surely you knew that, if you speak it too?" At Ginny's shocked expression, she just smiled beatifically and said, "Oh, well, I'll see you in a bit. The Golden Knight requested my presence at his portrait today, for he says he has something very interesting to tell me." And with that, she got up and floated off.

Ginny raised her eyebrows and turned back to Lillian and Victoria, the former who looked quite guilty and shamed, while the latter's face was just blank. Her eyes went between the two of them as she questioned dangerously, "You were talking about me?"

The guilty jump of Lillian's shoulders betrayed her answer. "No, of course not, Ginny!"

"What did you say?" When neither answered, her tone darkened a bit more. "What were you saying?"

Victoria looked straight at her, blue eyes clear and sharp.

"We were wondering whether or not you still were pining over Potter," she said, voice softer than her expression. "This is a new year, and he still doesn't seem to have a love interest, so we thought that you might... you know..."

"Why would you think that?" Ginny asked, eyes wide. Did more people think this, too?

"Well, you were staring at him, Ginny," Lillian said. "And you haven't been in a very good mood for a while, so we thought perhaps you had reconsidered him, and were getting depressed again."

"No! Of course not!" Ginny scowled, slightly annoyed that her friends would think her that weak as to fall for Harry again.

Victoria reached across the table and took one of Ginny's hands into her own. "I'm sorry, we were just worried for you."

Ginny's scowl softened. "I'm sorry, too. I've been in such a bad mood for a while. You guys really don't deserve it." Her eyes went from Victoria to Lillian, who was smiling at her. "Want to go to the library?"

* * *

The three entered the library chattering rather loudly together, only immediately to be swooped upon and shushed into silence by Madam Pince. Still giggling slightly, the three headed in the direction of the back shelves, past the main study area, and Ginny was surprised to see that many of the tables were filled with students dutifully doing their homework, even though it was early Saturday afternoon. However, she supposed, that could have had something to do with the fact that it was freezing outside and snow was everywhere, finals were in a month and a half, and there was no Hogsmeade trip that weekend.

Speaking of Hogsmeade, Ginny thought to herself, as she walked with Lillian and Victoria towards the fiction section, she needed to find a book about... her cheeks flamed red at the thought, and she had to take a deep breath to tell herself to say it, even if it was only in her mind. Masturbation. There. Slowly, she let the breath out and scanned the shelves for any mention of anything related to it, but all she could see were rows and rows of spellbooks, anthologies, biographies-- all ancient texts and useful for school and outside studying, but absolutely bloody useless to a girl who was, perhaps, coming upon her sexual awakening.

Lillian and Victoria stopped at one well-known row, and headed down it together, arms linked, before pausing in the middle and looking up and down the heavily-laden shelves. Ginny trailed after them, eyes skimming the titles, but many of them she had read before, or had absolutely no interest in reading. The school had a Muggle collection of books-- mostly at the request of the upperclassmen girls who wanted something else to read, and mostly romance novels-- but there were scarce few books of Muggle poetry, which is what Ginny thought of next.

What was that bloke's name that was supposed to be very romantic, who wrote all those poems and was supposedly sexy back in his time? Ginny wandered down the row towards the back of the library, watching the titles flash by as she looked for something familiar. Her father had had a copy of his works, and he quoted them on occasion, usually to her mother, but she couldn't recall his name. Ronly? Bylaw? Ginny looked down on the bottommost shelf in the corner, where the Muggle poetry collections began, but couldn't find his name amongst the As, or even the beginning of the Bs.

There was a gap of about a meter between the end of the high bookshelves and the window-covered walls, and Ginny turned the corner to the next row, and looked up at the highest shelf, where the poetry collections continued. Turning her head slightly, she read the names off, until she came across something that seemed familiar. The word _Byron_ stamped in gold leaf on a dark red binding caught her attention. Lord Byron! That was what she was looking for.

Stretching her arm up, she struggled to reach the book, her fingers barely brushing the bottom of the spine. As she settled back on her heels, Ginny thought that this was an unusual predicament she was in. She was a tall girl-- she had inherited her father's height and a portion of her mother's plumpness-- and had always had problems with being taller than most boys (she skimmed Harry's height, even now), but never a problem with reaching things. Huffing in an annoyed way, Ginny stretched her whole body up towards the book, fingers scrabbling for it blindly, turning her head slightly so that she could angle her height to its best advantage and closing her eyes in frustration.

A shadow passed over her and she felt vaguely the presence of someone behind her, before the book, which her fingertips had been prying at the bottom of, passed softly and easily out of the bookshelf and away.

"Need this?"

Ginny opened her eyes to see the very volume she had been reaching for floating in front of her, not by a Levitating Charm (damn! why hadn't she thought of that?) but by a pale set of fingers. A slight sense of dread filled her, and she turned to see Draco Malfoy behind her, a smirk on his thin lips.

She didn't even try to pretend to want to play today.

"Give it here, Malfoy." Ginny stuck out her hand for the book, but he kept it out of her reach, pulling it towards him, a strange expression on his face as she repeated, "Give it _here_, Malfoy."

The expression only deepened, a mixture of annoyance and something else she couldn't read, at her insistence, her eyes fixed on the pale tormentor.

His grey eyes just flashed down to the binding of the book he held, and then he scoffed slightly. "Why do you need Byronic poetry?" He looked back up at her, features twisting into a more disgusted look. "Going to serenade Potty under his window at the full moon, trying to convince him that you're worth his time, eh, Weasley? Bloody useless, I'll tell you."

Ginny attempted to snatch the book again, jaw tightening in slight embarrassment and irritation becoming clear on her features. She stepped up to Malfoy and tried to grab it from him, but he was a bit taller than her, and his arms were longer, so unless she wanted to use him as a launching pad and jump, there was no way she could reach the book. He smirked again as she considered whether or not she had enough pride not to just try and jump and grab it mid-air.

Leveling her gaze on him, she decided no. Adopting an imperious tone to match Malfoy's, she leaned back and said, "Not everyone is obsessed with Harry as you are, so don't just assume that it's any of _your_ business who I do or do not serenade. But I was actually just trying to expand my literary world view. Why do you care, anyways? Jealous that someone won't do the same for you?" She smirked back at him. "Oh, that's right, they can't. I forgot. Slytherin's cower _underground_."

Malfoy started at her for that, but at that moment Ginny stepped up and kicked him squarely in the shin, hard. He crumpled and let out an involuntary gasp of pain, hands going to his left shin, and he dropped the book right into Ginny's hand. Glad to have the book in her possession at last, Ginny made to leave, but when she looked at Malfoy, all bent over and looking like he was seriously in pain, her Gryffindor sense of compassion made her turn around.

She stepped back a few feet and reached out with the hand that wasn't holding the book, to touch his shoulder, "Malfoy, are you--."

But he inhaled shaprly and whipped back from her, straightening and glaring at her fiercely, eyes bright and almost silver.

Ginny didn't even quaver. "I'm sorry," she said, hardly even aware of what she was saying. Ron-- actually, all of her brothers-- would probably kill her for this, if they even believed it. "I didn't mean to kick you that hard. Are you alright?"

She even stepped up to him again, but he avoided her touch, sidestepping her and hissing, "Had quite enough courtesy from you, Weasel. You're bloody welcome for getting that book down for you." Ginny started at the words, and the implication that Malfoy had, perhaps, helped her? Her mouth opened in surprise, as though to speak. But he simply stormed off then, down the row of the books.

It would have been all well and dramatic if not for the fact that his otherwise perfect swagger was broken just slightly by a limp on the left side. For some reason, this made her laugh in genuine amusement, that he would need to be so perfect, even when angry.

"Make sure you don't choke on that pride, prat!" She called after him, for some strange reason, good-naturedly.

* * *

Well, I only have to say, if you didn't know that this fic was going to be about masturbation, then, well... Did you even read the title? Or the quote? But there will be more... much more. Haha. Hope to have you back.

And I will have to remark that people write graphic (and oftentimes inaccurate) descriptions of sexual acts for fanfiction. They are not always necessary (except in PWPs and lemons, which are not exactly expected to have plots like regular fanfiction), but they do it anyway. Don't know if I will be doing any of that in the near future, but for the moment this fic is about female masturbation and the fact that most teenagers seem to think that girls/women don't do it... And what comes out of discovering it. xD


	2. Chapter 2

A chapter about,

among other, less important things,

discovering your enemy might not be your enemy.

* * *

_Nymphomaniac: a woman as obsessed with sex as an average man. ~Mignon McLaughlin, The Neurotic's Notebook, 1960_

* * *

The next week was slow torture to Ginny, who was struggling to keep her mind off certain things. But it was hard, especially since she knew the potential answer to her "problem" was only six, three, one day away. And then it was the Saturday of the Hogsmeade trip, and she could feel the tension, the unrelieved sexual energy she was dying to release, burgeoning beneath her skin, making every movement more alive, more nervous.

It didn't even really make much sense to her. A couple of weeks ago, she wouldn't have thought of being frustrated like this at all. But now it distracted her from her lessons, breaking her concentration at pivotal moments (like during her History of Magic test— and it wasn't as though she could just go to Professor Binns and explain that the reason she couldn't remember Gindelgarb's siege of Harksfeld Castle because she had been trying to think of what had gone wrong last time she had tried to masturbate), and made her slightly irritable, especially to boys. From what she had heard, they all had it easy. Everything they had to deal with was on the outside, and even if thinking about… down _there_… on a boy, made her slightly squirmy, she still thought it incredibly unfair. Why the bloody hell were girls complicated?

Lillian and Victoria accompanied her down to Hogsmeade, although she could hardly concentrate on their chatter in her anticipation. Even the cold snow couldn't dampen the feeling that she was alive, and the walk down from the castle the morning of the Hogsmeade trip seemed to last forever in the cold whiteness. But then they were there at Hogsmeade, and Ginny could hardly wait to slip away to the tiny bookstore off at the edge of town, the only bookstore that stocked Muggle authors. Hardly any Hogwarts kids went there, partly because, in large part, the books weren't magical (and what was the fun of reading a book without moving pictures?), and partly because most didn't even know it existed. Even Ginny had found it by chance, when, on a trip to Hogsmeade in her third year, she was trying to find a secluded spot to write in her diary (a real one, and one not at all possessed by _anything_), and had passed it by on her way to the fields that edged Hogsmeade.

So when Lillian and Victoria made their way inside Honeydukes, Ginny told them she needed to run over to the Dervish & Banges to fix up her Sneakoscope, and they let her go without a second thought, although she promised to be back at The Three Broomsticks in an hour. So she set off into the blazing cold, wrapping her arms tightly around herself as she traversed the back streets of Hogsmeade, all empty of life due to the blizzard that was raging.

The warmth of the shop, Quills, was a welcome respite from the cold outside, and she smiled at the shopkeeper behind the counter, although her nose burned at the sudden change in temperature. Taking a deep breath of the warm air, she unwrapped her arms from around herself (she knew she should have taken her thicker cloak this morning), brushed some leftover snow from her shoulders, and pulled off her thin cloak to rest it on the coatrack next to the door. Breathing in the warm air, she set off into the shop to look for a promising book.

As she wandered the shelves, however, Ginny realized that she wasn't even entirely sure what she was looking for. Would a bookstore this small— and the shop was quite a bit smaller than she remembered— have something quite so particular? What section would it be in? Surely it wouldn't simply be called— _Orgasms for Dummies: The Woman Edition_, right? That would just be too obvious, yeah?

She wandered past shelf after shelf, eyes browsing the spines for something that might give her a clue to what she wanted. But nothing seemed right. She paused at the row filled with paperback romances, but at the sight of bare-chested men in tight pants and women in flowing dresses, she turned around and looked at the shelves opposite. It wasn't as though she didn't like romance novels, it's just that they weren't very useful in teaching anyone about the art of sex. Everything was all "tight cores" and "shafts" and "trembling flesh"— nothing at all like reality. The words penis or vagina were never even mentioned, as if they'd ruin the mood or something. And it wasn't even like they were having real sex; the men always were big and the women always tight, and everyone orgasmed on the first way round. Ginny had read her fair share of romance novels, but the sex all seemed the same to her.

Sighing, Ginny opened her eyes to see herself staring at a wall full of self-help books. Bright titles set on white backgrounds glared back at her, all with things like, _Your Baby's First Year_ and _Get Your Figure Back: A Guide to a Diet That Really Works!_, and she had just started to turn away when something caught her eye. It was on the bottom shelf, with thick purple text on the spine— a small book that said _How to Give Her the Pleasure She Really Wants_.

Immediately, Ginny swooped down and looked more closely at the title, but still those were the words printed across the spine. With a trembling finger, Ginny reached out and pulled the book from the shelf, flipping it over in her hands. On the cover was printed a woman's body in the arms of a man, who was kneeling by her feet and looking up at a head cut off by the top of the book with an expression of longing and love.

Ginny turned the book over to its back and started skimming the synopsis with disbelieving eyes.

_Have you had problems giving your woman the pleasure she really deserves? Are you afraid of her leaving if you don't properly satisfy her? Or are you just a man who wants to improve his bedroom skills? This book will give you the secrets to unlocking the secrets of the women's body, from ways to turn her on all the way up to the aftermath. _

A strange feeling bubbled through Ginny, as though she couldn't quite believe that there were really books like this out there. Were there really people who had the same problems as her? The book might be designed for men, but this was a good sign— if she could find this book in Quills, there had to be other books with women in mind, somewhere. Flicking open the cover, she flipped through the slick white pages eagerly, not really sure where to start. She slowly stood, book cradled in her hands like a precious jewel.

_Chapter 1: Setting up the Scene_

_Now, men, we all might pretend that we popped out of the womb, fully grown with beards and shotguns in our hands, but truthfully, we had to grow up and learn things from our parents— or more specifically, from our fathers. If there was one important thing that I learned from my pop, it was that if you want to get close to a lady, you need to know how to set up the scene. Otherwise known as, setting the mood. _

_Sure, you might be lucky enough to have a lady who arrives at your doorstep, ready and waiting for you to take her, but there's something to be said for putting in the effort to make your lover feel sexy. The— _

Without warning, a darkly-clothed body slammed roughly into Ginny's right shoulder and she stumbled and spun, book dropping from her hands and sliding across the hardwood floor of the shop. Flushed and embarrassed, Ginny started for the book, more out of concern for the other seeing its title than anything else, but before she could get her hands on it, the boy who had run into her had knelt fluidly and picked it up. She stopped up short as the boy turned sideways, book turned front-cover-down, and handed it back to her.

Her eyes flashed up and took in the appearance of the boy in front of her, even as her hands reached for the book. She was surprised to see white-blond hair and downcast grey eyes facing her, in the unmistakable features of Draco Malfoy's. Ginny froze in mute horror, hands extended towards her book, an unintelligible sound forming in anxious reaction in her throat. The boy, however, didn't seem to realize that it was her, Ginny Weasley, of the famously red hair and poor clothes that he loved to mock, sister to the infamous Ron Weasley, as his eyes didn't even register on her face, nor seemed to see anything at all. Malfoy merely mumbled an incomprehensible apology and as soon as her hands took on the weight of the book, released it without even glancing at the title, or its embarrassing content.

Spinning around in a flash of expensive black wool, the only color on his body being a finely-knit, silver-green tie, not even the school tie required by Slytherins to wear, Malfoy strode up to the counter and dropped a heavily bound tome on the counter to the shopkeeper witch. Ginny, shock still registering in her system and first instinct being to hide, ducked quickly behind the wooden shelf running through the center of the first floor of the shop, heart beating loudly through her body. It was as though someone had grazed her with a Cheering Charm, skin buzzing with excitement and elation that though she had encountered the beast, she hadn't yet been harmed. However, she knew that wasn't enough. She wanted to see what Malfoy was buying in a bookshop that catered mostly to Muggle book lovers, and what had made him so distant.

(Although all she really wanted was to make sure he left without noticing her, for real.)

Ginny clutched the book tightly to her chest and peered around the edge of the shelves, afraid that her minimal luck had run out and Malfoy was staring intently in her direction at that very moment, ready to mock and point at the slightest suggestion that he hadn't imagined her. But when she looked at the counter near the doors of the shop, he was merely accepting his change for the book, eyes on nothing but its dark blue cover, even as he dropped the loose Knuts and Sickles into his suit pants pocket. The owner witch smiled and thanked him for his purchase, and he acknowledged her with a slight glance and nod, half-smile grazing his lips, before grabbing the book and heading for the door.

Ginny leaned farther around the corner of the shelf, eyes searching for the title of the book and any more interesting knowledge about her enemy, but Malfoy's arm was in the way. He pulled his cloak down from the coatrack, from right next to hers, and Ginny inwardly chastised herself for not recognizing that expensive and obviously well-made cloak right away. How could she not know it? She had seen it countless times over recent months, as the days got colder, and she had been forced (mostly by designs of Malfoy himself) to be in her pale tormentor's presence more often than she had liked. She practically knew it as well as her own, loath as she was to admit it.

Oblivious to the effect he had made upon his sometime victim, Malfoy flipped the heavy winter cloak over his shoulders. A moment after that he had slipped the book into the inside pocket of the cloak, and not even looking back inside the shop, he slid out the door and into the thickly falling snow, the bell above the door ringing tinnily. Ginny watched him until he disappeared from sight, skin still burning with excitement, mind racing that she had somehow defeated Fate.

Swallowing thickly and mind racing with possibilities, Ginny struggled to figure out what to do next. She was more than curious as to what the contents were of the book Malfoy held, but there were few options to follow to figure it out. She could scour the bookshop for a similar-looking book, but even from her makeshift hiding place, she could tell that the book, heavily bound with a crisply shining leather cover, likely charmed to look dark blue, would probably not have a replacement within the store. And nothing that she, with her spare Knuts and few Sickles, could purchase to view at her ease.

The curiosity, however, proved to be too much. There was only one other option, and it made Ginny sigh to think of what she would have to give up to accomplish her task. But faced with the choice, her curiosity of Malfoy overpowered the other option easily. Setting her face in an uncomely grimace, Ginny stepped back across the aisle and knelt down to replace the book she had cradled so tightly to her chest. The plan forming quickly in her mind couldn't seem to work fast enough to accommodate the book purchase, and so it had to be sacrificed. For now.

Raising herself from the crouching position, Ginny turned and walked leisurely down the aisle toward the counter, eyes searching the stacks of books with rather unfocussed eyes, though seeming to be at no hurry to reach the front of the store. There were few customers in there besides herself, and none else were in the front section of the store, so she didn't worry about anyone else getting to the counter before she made it there.

Finally, she wandered up to the counter, only a couple of minutes after Malfoy had left, but long enough so she would not seem stalkerish for the questions she was soon to ask. The witch sitting behind the counter put down the book she had been reading and smiled at her pleasantly, and seemed to be waiting for Ginny to put down a book to buy. Ginny offered a slight smile in response, and put her jumper-clad arms on the counter, appearing casual.

"Good afternoon," Ginny said, wondering if her plan would work. When the witch offered a pleasant greeting in response, Ginny continued. "I was wondering if you could do me a favor, perhaps?" At the witch's quirk of an eyebrow, Ginny said, "There was a boy in here a minute ago, who bought a book from you? He was rather tall,"— Ginny indicated a height slightly above her own— "with blonde hair?"

At the mention of the blonde hair, the witch's smile widened and the skin around her dark brown eyes crinkled in barely-contained amusement. "Oh, you mean Mr. Malfoy?"

Ginny's mouth, which had been open to continue with her description of the boy in question, dropped slightly more open, before snapping abruptly shut with surprise she tried hard to mask. The surprise was not at the fact that the witch recognized the rather prominent white blonde hair, but that she seemed pleased, even _excited_, to do so. The thought made her slightly stutter in surprise, "Er, yes. Malfoy. Draco. Draco Malfoy."

"Oh, yes, I know the boy." Though Ginny was supremely interested in the way the witch was saying the words, along with the fact that she was saying something at all, Ginny was not so pleased when the witch did not offer any information past that point. The witch's tone had seemed to imply that she knew Malfoy not as anyone else did (as a major prat, Ginny thought fleetingly to herself), but as a human being not in need of a good slapping. Ginny was nearly curious enough about how the witch seemed to know him well and yet didn't want to strangle him silly, to put off her current quest and make the witch tell her exactly _why_ she knew Malfoy at all, but after a mere moment, abandoned the idea. It wasn't nearly as important, and she didn't have much time.

Ginny smiled again, but this time it was harder, as the witch's tone had thrown her off balance. "Er, well that make things easier, then. The favor I was talking about involved him." At the curious glance, Ginny toned down the rather confidential tone her voice had taken on, in order to cover her nervousness, and plowed on through the rather treacherous part of the plan. "You see, Ma— Draco isn't in my year, or anything, but a while back I was having trouble in some of my classes and one of the professors recommended me to him for help. Of course, he wasn't too keen on the idea of helping me, though he's terribly clever,"— Ginny felt like choking as the words escaped her mouth, but she could do nothing but continue on, or endanger the plan—"much less for more than one class. It was rather hard convincing him to teach me anything, since he's always busy doing other things. He only agreed to do the lessons as a favor for one of his favorite teachers.

"But from the lessons he has given me, I've been getting on much better, and I think after a couple more lessons I can get by on my own. Of course, for being such a bother to him, I wanted to get him a present, one that he would actually like." Here, Ginny forced a small, self-deprecating laugh that sounded remarkably real. "But I don't know what to get him. Along with being rather clever, he's also very quiet, and he doesn't tell me much about what he likes. So I was wondering if you could tell me what book he was getting, so I might have an idea of what to get him, as a sort of thank-you gift, as well as a Christmastide gift?"

Ginny looked hopefully at the amused look spreading across the witch's face. For some reason, she suspected that the witch didn't believe her story for a second— and the confidential smile seemed to indicate why. _Oh, no_, Ginny thought. _She doesn't think that I—_ Ginny felt herself flush at the thought that the witch thought she _liked_ Malfoy.

"Well, dear, of course I would love to help you." The witch winked at her with one of her cheery eyes, and came around from behind the counter. "He is a rather charming boy, I know. The books he buys— why, they're positively brilliant books. I don't know what he does with them. Come with me, dear," the woman said, leading Ginny into the back of the store, continuing to talk as though she hadn't noticed Ginny's distress. "But I can see how he would be hard to get to know. Very quiet, very secretive. Proud, too. But he's always polite— something of his upbringing, I suppose. Not very many boys are like him nowadays. Never a wrong word to me, though I've known him for so many years."

Ginny started at the idea that Malfoy could be ever considered _polite_. "You've known him for a long time, then?" Ginny pried, looking curiously around as the woman led her up a set of narrow stairs that she had never noticed before, and up into a small chamber in the back of the store. The room was lined on three walls, floor-to-ceiling, with heavily bound books like Malfoy's, the fourth wall almost entirely made up with a quartered window, snow falling past the panes. This seemed to be the only part of the store that housed magical books. Although Ginny didn't exactly enjoy the fact that the witch thought she _liked_ Malfoy, it made the woman all the more eager to tell her about Malfoy's past.

"Oh, yes, I've known the Malfoys for years. Used to work here when his father went to school at Hogwarts." The witch led Ginny to one of the bookcases that lined the back wall, and began peering at the titles, continuing her tale. "His sister was a dear friend of mine, bless her soul, though I never quite got on with Lucius. Never liked this place, he did. He wasn't a big fan of Muggles then, or of their books."

The woman hummed a moment, her fingers sliding over the covers of the books on the bottom shelf, frowning, before she stood up again, and began checking the next shelf. "I dare say that was a contentious part in their relationship. He never quite got over it, and she didn't like how proud he had become. And then Draco was born, and he was very sweet on his aunt. They didn't see each other much, because Lucius didn't get on very well with his sister, but she often brought him here when they were able to meet. I suppose that's why he always comes back."

Before Ginny could ask another question, to know what had happened to the aunt, the woman straightened suddenly and smiled brilliantly, a black-bound book in her hands. "Here we are," the woman said, turning the title so it faced Ginny.

Ginny peered down at the cover of the book as she took it in her hands, eyes straining to see the faded gold-leaf title stamped into the black leather.

_Herbert Hoyle's Astronomical Properties of Geological Materials: An Integral Study of the Cosmic Principles that Affect Earthly Matter_ the lengthy title flashed before Ginny, and she noticed at the bottom of the book cover, nearly invisible, was a faded _Part II_, stamped right near the edge.

"I'm afraid Draco bought the only copy of the first book I have available," the woman said, smiling at Ginny as she flipped the book over to it's back, a twinkling of constellations charmed into the surface of the leather sparkling through the air. "But this is the second of the set, and I know for sure that he is going to come back and buy it soon. He has a passion for astronomy, you see, and if he bought the first one, it's a guarantee he'll be back in a couple of weeks to buy the next in the set. Unless, of course," and at this Ginny met the witch's sparkling brown eyes, "someone else gets it for him."

Ginny's throat was suddenly dry. This was the part of the plan that she had not quite anticipated how to deal with. The few Sickles and Knuts she had jingled slightly in her pocket as though to remind her of how poor she really was. How could she buy this book? Surely it was too expensive… But how stupid would it look if she put this woman through all this trouble to find Malfoy's book, and not buy anything in the end?

"Um," Ginny started, eyes darting down in a desperate attempt to come up with some excuse, but the only thing that came to her was the truth. "I'm afraid that I haven't got much money, and I'm really very sorry, but I obviously can't afford this book." Ginny gently shoved the book in the direction of the witch, pale skin flushing with embarrassment. "Thank you for all the help, though. I'm sorry I've led you on, and given you all this trouble. But it's given me an idea of what—."

"Oh, dear," the witch said, pushing the book back into Ginny's arms, cutting her off. "It's been no trouble at all. Really, I must insist that you take the book, if not for your sake, but for mine." The woman looked at her kindly, and Ginny felt shame spread over her body like a cloak, that she had deceived this nice woman in her quest for something completely selfish. "I've always wanted Draco to find someone sweet, someone who would be a good influence on him." The witch's brown eyes warmed, and Ginny pressed the book to her chest tightly, unable to do anything but listen to the woman. "I know he's very difficult to get to know, and he acts so much like his father now, stomping around and acting brutish when he thinks I don't know, but I don't believe he's completely ruined. He's a good boy, at heart." The woman smiled once more and patted Ginny on the shoulder. "You know that, surely."

Ginny nodded mutely, fingers digging into the cover of the book. Finally, she was able to force herself to speak through the embarrassment that had temporarily closed her throat. "Thank you…" Ginny said awkwardly, trailing off when she realized she didn't know the woman's name.

"Eva Roman," the witch filled in.

"Thank you, Ms. Roman," Ginny repeated with a bit more conviction, and before she could stop herself, continued, "My name is Ginny Weasley."

"You're welcome, Ginny."

Ginny nodded once more, before she turned and left.

* * *

The Three Broomsticks was packed with people, a mix of Hogwarts students who had decided not to brave the growing storm in the trek back up to the castle until they had a couple of butterbeers under their belt, and an odd gathering of locals, many of whom had chosen today of all days to get heartily drunk at 1 in the afternoon. At first, Ginny could see no one she knew, as a group of rather rowdy, and rather large, men had taken up the first tables and much of the bar. When she finally made it around the group, she managed to spot Victoria and Lilly across the pub, at a table with two boys she didn't immediately recognize.

Threading her way through the pub, she managed to avoid any serious accident and threw herself into a chair next to Lilly and across from a dark haired boy that she thought looked familiar but couldn't quite place.

"Jeez, Ginny, we were beginning to wonder if you had got lost and died in the Forbidden Forest or something," Lilly said, only half-joking, "You're nearly an hour late. What happened to your Sneakoscope anyhow? Did Dervish & Banges fix it up?"

"Oh, er," Ginny suddenly swallowed with difficulty as she shrugged off her cloak, making sure to keep the book hidden in its folds, and tried to come up with a suitable lie. "They said they had to keep it for a couple of days, to look at it. They'll send it back up to Hogwarts when it's done."

Truthfully, she hadn't brought her Sneakoscope with her at all. She felt bad for lying to her two best friends, but the whole deal was too embarrassing to mention, and was especially tangled now that that it had gotten caught up with the likes of Draco Malfoy. Not to mention how guilty she felt for tricking Ms. Roman into giving her an expensive book for a boy she didn't even like.

And just to top it all off, she hadn't even been able to get the book she really wanted!

All she could remember was that last line— _make your lover feel sexy._ How could she…?

Abruptly, her thoughts were interrupted as Madam Rosmerta came by with their drinks. Setting down a frothing Pumpkin Juice in front of Lilly, she dropped three Butterbeers in front of Victoria, and the two boys whom Ginny didn't know.

"Ah," Madam Rosmerta said, noticing Ginny. "Hello, dear. What'll you have?"

"Butterbeer, thanks," Ginny replied, smiling at the vivacious older woman.

As Madam Rosmerta left, Lilly tugged at Ginny's arm, before indicating the two boys sitting at their tale. "So, Ginny, do you know Marcus?" She pointed at the sandy-blonde, tall boy sitting at the end of the table, next to Lilly. Ginny shook her head, saying no softly, before Lilly continued excitedly on. "Well, then, Ginny, this is Marcus Helixus. He's a Prefect from Ravenclaw. Marcus, this is one of my best friends, Ginny Weasley."

Marcus smiled pinchedly at Ginny, his mouth seemingly incapable of a true smile, as she smiled slightly back. He looked as though he would rather be doing something else, his dark blue eyes half-lidded and rather bored. Ginny abruptly remembered him as the boy Lilly had been going on about the week before, and she had to agree with Victoria. He did look rather up himself.

"And this," Lilly continued on in a voice strangely different than before, interrupting Ginny's appraisal, "is Barrett Croydon."

Ginny looked at the boy seated across from her. He had dark, messy hair, much like Harry's, only a bit lighter. His eyes, however, were brown and steady, and his expression was impossible to read. He quirked a slight smile in the corner of his mouth and waved a little at Ginny as Lilly introduced her. He looked very familiar to her, but she couldn't quite place him.

As if reading her thoughts, Lilly jumped in with, "Surely you know Barrett? He's on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. You're a Beater, yeah? This is Ginny Weasley, a Chaser on our side."

"Yeah," Barrett affirmed, his voice rougher than his looks, "I've seen you about. I'm a sixth-year, like you, though I just got on the team last year. You're quite good. Completely slaughtered us last match."

Ginny almost caught an undertone of bitterness, but the corner of his mouth lifted again, and she felt like she had just misheard. "Thanks," she said uneasily, unsure of how to accept the compliment, and not sure how to continue the conversation. "But the Slytherin-Gryffindor match is still coming up, and no one's quite sure how good their team is this year. No one seems to know anything about this year's team at all, even who the players are."

"Well," Barrett paused thoughtfully, "I know Rangerton is captain, at least. Are you sure they haven't kept any of their original players? Even from last year?"

After that, Ginny slipped comfortably into Quidditch shop-talk with Barrett. He was easy to get along with, and seemed happy to debate with her over the finer points of the Shepfield Defense or England's newly-formed side (the old side was replaced after their smashing defeat against Transylvania). She was quite sure, by the slight looks Victoria and Lillian kept sliding over them, that this was what was supposed to happen.

(The fact that little smirks passed between them as well, and they didn't impede on the conversation only reinforced that thought.)

She didn't let it bother her. Victoria and Lillian were known for trying to "improve" her love-life, as they so put it, and had been doing so for the past several years. Victoria had introduced her to Dean Thomas, in fact, and had convinced her to go out with him as a ploy to get over Harry. Obviously, Barrett was yet another Harry replacement— he almost looked like him. He was cute, and his friendliness was easy and unforced, but he struck her as just a friend, no more.

Madam Rosmerta came back with her drink partway through their conversation, apologizing for the long wait. As Ginny accepted the drink, her eyes caught on something across the room. Sitting in the corner of the pub, a mug steaming on the rough wood table in front of him, was Draco Malfoy. He seemed to be looking in her direction, silver eyes glowing in the pale light streaming through the window.

Her arm jerked suddenly and Butterbeer sloshed over her hand and onto the table. After she put glass down hurriedly, Barrett took her hand and pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, while Ginny looked furtively over at Malfoy again. He was no longer looking in her direction, eyes focused out the window as he took a draw from his mug. His book was nowhere to be seen.

Her heart hammering as though she'd just run from one end of the Quidditch pitch to the other, Ginny looked back at Barrett. She hadn't noticed that he had taken her hand in his and was wiping it off with his handkerchief lightly. Feeling residual guilt from the book now pressed against her back and ignoring the nice boy in front of her, she jerked her hand back and muttered a quick thanks.

She could feel her face flaming, and as Barrett smiled guilelessly at her, she could see Lilly and Victoria exchanging victorious looks, as Marcus looked boredly on from the background.

Sometimes it was bloody annoying to have friends.

* * *

The time after the Hogsmeade visit seemed to speed up. Her run-ins with Malfoy were infrequent at best, and quick and rather painless (on her side, at least) at worst. In truth, she tried to avoid him best she could. She immediately supposed it had to be the guilt speaking.

The book Ms. Roman had given her was safely locked away at the bottom of her trunk, hidden beneath sweaters she never wore and wrapped tightly in brown paper, as though covering it up might conceal the feelings that the book brought with it. But she couldn't stop thinking about it. Well, it wasn't like she was prostrated in guilt, in agony over the decision of whether to keep the book for her own purposes (of which she had none), or to give it to someone who might need it, or to just keep it a secret until she forgot all about it.

But she would think about it occasionally, when someone brought up something related to astronomy, or whenever she saw Malfoy, and immediately the guilt would be back. Never wanting to associate Malfoy with _guilt_, she worked her way around his schedule best she could and flat-out ignored him the rest of the time.

But really, what did she care if she deprived something from Malfoy? The prick certainly deserved it for all he had done to her over the years. It would do him some good to be denied something once in a while. She heard his parents bought him whatever he wanted— like the new Inferno broom (though he no longer played Quidditch), a trip to China, Japan, and Korea during the summer months, and even managed to get a private concert at his family's estate with the Unforgiveables (a band that, while their name was tactless and grossly inappropriate, was one of the best groups Ginny had ever heard play).

Soon Christmas vacation was nearly upon them, and the Yuletide feast was being prepared for the next day. Lillian was going home for the holidays, but Victoria and Luna were staying behind with Ginny.

Now that classes were over, Ginny was finally ready to start her quest. The last sentence in that book kept repeating over and over in her head, and now she had the time to heed it's advice. _Make your lover feel sexy. _

It was time to find someone sexy at Hogwarts.

* * *

Aghh. I have had this chapter written for ages but something about it kept bothering me and no matter what I did I am just not completely happy with it. I am sure you're not happy with it either. No forward motion on her sexual awareness and barely any steps forward concerning her relationship with Draco. But if I just left this on my computer it would continue to sit there for another age and a half and at least now it is out in the open, free! To run! And encourage me to write another chapter, since I will just have to move on from here. There will be more! On both of the fronts! Sexual and Draco-wise. Of course, if they start to converge... well, we'll see.

And as for Draco and Astronomy... another plot! YAY! But this is mostly about Ginny. Yes, it is. More self-love for the future, I promise.


End file.
